Stilton

Information

Character Full Name: Stilton Longnote

Character In-Game Name: Stilton

Nickname(s): Director Longnote, Stil

Association(s): The Alliance, Lightfoot Theater

Race: Gnome

Class: None(Warrior IG)

Age: 146

Sex: Male

Hair: Blonde, almost white

Eyes: One brown, one off-colored to an almost milky white

Weight: 47 Lbs

Height: 3'9

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Fancy shirts, fancy pants, usually plenty of rings and the like to show off his apparent wealth

=Personality

Alignment: Neutral

Quite the cheery little fellow. Often smiling and nodding while speaking. When speaking he presents himself as someone with a bit of power behind his words, but not so much as to intimidate anyone. He's rather gentle, but can get very angry if things do not go his way. Not so much as to hurt anyone, or to attack, but he will yell your ear off. He enjoys the finer things in life. Wine, jewels, and what have you.

History

Stilton, born in Gnomeregan, never took on his races' affinity towards Engineering. He was raised as most, an Engineer. Specifically, a repair specialist as his father was. He was never very good or very confident in himself as he quietly repaired small automatons in a nothing-special way for over a hundred years, avoiding any spotlight he might get.

However, in the short period as to when the Gnomes were 'discovered' by the Dwarves, he was one of the many called to builed the great Gnomish technocity of Gnomeregan. Specifically- you guessed it- as a repairs specialist. When the Second War broke out, he stayed within Gnomeregan, fearing the races he had not yet encountered. Once again, this monotonous way of life was continued for years without complaint or any real aspirations.

Then, it happened. The Troggs invaded, the bomb went off, and panic exploded throughout the city. The fear that overcame Stilton was indescribable as he defended himself with a Wrench from oncoming Troggs. Once disarmed, he fled only to be hit in the face by an explosion, scarring his once-carefree face. A thick, jagged scar runs up his left eye.

Though, through a miracle, he survived. If you could call it that. He fell into a deep depression, holing up in Ironforge as the rest of his kind did. He worked at a Tanner's as a clerk. He didn't enjoy it, but the upstairs loft belonged to him. In his free time, he didn't leave. He didn't go out and socialize. He wrote. He wrote and wrote, simply doing nothing but.

It would be a few years before he'd finally head out to see the Humans, heading away from Ironforge and his kin and getting on the tram. He'd experience Human culture for the first time and would be astounded. Their wants and desires were so much different than the Gnomes and Dwarves! The nobles walking around in gold and heavy, fancy robes, the normal folk who, despite being laborers, were happy! He decided he would stay, renting a place out in the Dwarven district. He still wrote, but started going out and socializing, making friends with the right people.

The right people, as I put it, soon invited him to see something. A play. He'd go, expecting, well, games and whatnot, but what he got knocked him off of his feet. It was a strange tale of things he'd never witnessed, with a traic ending. After this, he began getting all the information he could on plays, becoming a recluse again. After a few years of intense study, he's out and ready to put his writings into action, starting up the Theater group: The Lightfoot Theater!